When Mr. Rowan was finally chosen in January as sumo's grand champion - the first foreigner to reach the top rank, called "yokozuna" - the Japanese admired him less for his sports skill than his transformation into someone with Japanese "spirit." He is not a boastful victor but has become a humble, dignified, and gracious leader - all 6 ft., 8 in. of him.

If he had stayed in Hawaii, he says, he probably would have been a beach bum. Instead, he has become a sumo star with the new name of Akebono, or "dawn," having gained a good command of Japanese and an unstoppable bulk of 462 lbs.

The fact that he was chosen as a champion by one of Japan's most exclusive and conservative groups, the sumo association, is less impressive than his transformation as a person.

"When I came here, I just threw away everything I had learned in 18 years in Hawaii," Akebono says. "I threw it all away. It was just like being born again." He so impressed a group of foreign reporters recently that they threw out any pretense of objectivity and applauded him for his self-effacement and witty insights. Many beseeched him for autographs.

Instead of an autograph, this reporter received a hand thrust to the throat. Akebono had been asked to demonstrate his winning technique, and I was chosen as the nearest dummy, since I head Tokyo's foreign press corps. Even though I appear sumo-like in height and, some say, in girth, Akebono was gentle. A mere touch to my Adam's apple sat me back in my chair.

At first sight, sumo looks like a bunch of blubbery boys in silky G-strings belting each other out of a dirt ring. But if one looks closer, sumo's rituals, its Marine-like training, subtle tactics, and the attitude of the players become more important than the wrestlers' distended physiques or even who wins.